


Signs of Affection

by tumblinplace



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:43:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumblinplace/pseuds/tumblinplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of Princess Tilde, Eggsy finds Harry Heart. Dealing with the aftermath of Valentine's failed doomsday, Harry and Eggsy get to know each other better. Originally started as a one-shot posted on kingsman-kink.livejournal.com, moved here for continuation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As a boy, Eggsy would often imagine living a life as a total badass, hero and protector, always ready with quip one-liners to put his foes in their place. While growing up he would hold-on to the fantasy as life took from him the clean joys of being naïve and young. Over the years hope of becoming something special receded away quietly, only to be replaced by obligations and harsh realities. Keeping the fantasy suddenly felt irresponsible and dangerous. So eventually he let it ebb away with the rest of the tide. 

“Like you said to Harry- this ain’t that kind of movie.” Eggsy hear the words slip out as if it was the most natural thing to possibly happen. He sees half of a satisfied grin on Valentine’s face before it goes blank and lifeless. Eggsy walks away shaking and for the first time acknowledges the rushing adrenaline responsible for his continual mobility and general uprightness. Harry hangs in Eggsy’s mind and he mourns the name as it left his lips. What would he not give to have cause for speaking it again. 

Eggsy remained silent while making his way through the maze-like halls of Valentine’s bunker. He is aware of the warm static transmitting from Merlin, who is alive and online. He suspects Merlin is only keeping quiet to allow him a buffer of self contained readjustment. He is grateful. 

“I think that counts as a success.” Eggsy finally says halfway down a hallway of headless henchmen, signaling he has recollected himself.

“As well as first missions go I suppose… I’ve seen cleaner jobs.” Responds Merlin, dryly as usual.

“There’s always something… ain’t it. So hard to please - ” He stops short. A door, seemingly to a prison cell, has caught his attention. The same door that provided him with modest shelter while he struggled for a last-ditch effort to not get killed. There is some debt to be paid he thinks. He veers off course and goes for the door. Unsurprisingly, it is locked. “Uh… Merlin. Can you get the code?” 

“2427. But you should really come back to the plane. I can’t see what’s behind -”

Eggsy punches in the code despite Merlin’s warning. Somewhere within the metal frame the lock buzzes and the door swings open. The cell is warmly lit. Incandescent light floods against the unfinished walls, creating long and strange shadows out of the jagged rocks. There is a man lying in a hospital bed, his face obscured by darkness. A standard myriad of machines and IVs were hooked onto him. He was deathly still. Only the faint beeps from his mechanical companion indicates life.

Eggsy walks in cautiously. The shadows are getting to him. And then he sees – and so does Merlin. He hears Merlin’s quiet gasp before a tidal wave of adrenaline resurges in him. He feels his body react before his mind catches up. It is Harry. Horrifying elation cascades through his every nerve ending. He reaches and he has him again.

The name leaves him like a mantra, and with the urgency of fleeting a nightmare.

“Harry…” Eggsy whispers repeatedly and blindly. It has become his entire vocabulary. His hands, as if searching, brushes over Harry body in haste, finally ending on the side of the man’s face. He looks drained and disheveled, despite which Harry’s quiet dignity, something Eggsy has always found so very attractive, is found intact.

His excitement of seeing Harry alive is quickly overcome by a tremendous amount of affection, and quite possibly, love. After brief consideration, he ran a thumb over Harry’s hairline, and decided to allow himself the simple pleasure of kissing the man on the lips.


	2. Chapter 2

“Arthur had sent out men to claim the body. I guess it makes sense Galahad ended up here. The last half decent thing he did.” Merlin comments as he toggles through various displays of Harry’s beeping friend. 

Reinforcement has since arrived after the discovery of the missing politicians and celebrities. Due to Eggsy’s creative thinking, any traitor within the Kingsman service has been…thwarted. Thus, the rescue effort is underway with minimal delay.

Between the rushing agents and starlets in orange blankets dissuading trauma, Eggsy remained grounded by Harry’s side. It turns out Valentine was a bad shot- it comes with the territory of never having shot anyone before. Sans a cosmetic wound on his scalp, Harry remains intact. Having lost Harry so briefly in the storm of this disastrous plot, Eggsy doesn’t know if he is now falling into a dream away from grief or just waking up from a nightmare. He holds onto Harry’s hand and gives it a squeeze for his own benefit.

“How long till he’s back?” He hears himself ask Merlin.

“They had him sedated the whole time. It’ll take a few hours for the drugs to wear off. Maybe a day.” Merlin gives Eggsy a sideways glance, finally looking away from the monitor.

Eggsy remembers the Kingsman teachings of how a gentleman conceals his turbulent emotions in times of stress. But he doesn’t give a toss about it now. He knows what Merlin must see- the worry and anguish that must be painted on his face. He forgets the world spins safely outside once more, because his will hang on a thread until Harry is looking him in the eyes once again.

“Hey.” Merlin says. “Look at me Eggsy. Look at me.” He does. “He’s going to be alright… yeah?” 

Eggsy responds with a stiff nod. “Okay.”

\-----

Eggsy had visited Harry during his previous stint in the infirmary. With training demanding his every attention and the unblemished shield of invincibility Harry still had around him, Eggsy didn’t feel worried. Certainly the newly awakened affections he holds for Harry had not yet surfaced then. Now, he finds himself again, sitting in the same seat, waiting for the same man, yet he himself is no longer the same.

The man has regained some colour to his cheeks. Eggsy desperately wants to bring the hand he is holding to his lips and press a reassuring kiss. But he cannot. He has restricted himself to strictly handholding since that ill-judged kiss. It was impulsive and stupid. Thankfully Merlin has not made any objections to his action and essentially turned a blind eye to the indiscretion. Anxious butterflies whispers of rejection and horror within him. He is caught in this excruciating moment of uncertainty, flowing towards the unknown.

There was a knock on the door. He lets go of Harry’s hand and sits back. It was Roxy who enters swiftly.

“How are you doing?” She asks with genuine concern behind her eyes. This is the first time he’s seen her since she still had those balloons strapped to her.

“Alright.” Eggsy manages a grin.

“This is good news.” She eyes Harry and smiles. He makes a noise of agreement and then a silence falls over them. “What you did was amazing… but now you look like shit. Are you staying hydrated? You should catch a few hours of shut eye.”

God he is tired. His movements and mind are slow from fatigue. He looks at her for a moment. 

“Yeah you are probably right.” He gets up and wraps her in an overdue hug. “Not so bad yourself.” He congratulates her.

They share a few more friendly exchanges before he shuffles off to find a bed somewhere and she to find some charge to lead.

\-----

Merlin wakes Eggsy the next morning at an ungodly hour. The base is still buzzing with the same urgency as when Eggsy went to sleep.

“Harry’s awake. FYI.” He hears Merlin say as his sleep-deprived brain slowly translated the words into meaning.

Without a word Eggsy propels himself off his makeshift cot of orange shock blankets and he’s off running towards the infirmary. 

He stops short of Harry’s room by just a few strides. Breathing heavily partly from the run, but mostly from the butterflies in his belly. He collects himself for a moment and remembers to knock.

“Come in.” It’s Harry. And he does.

Eggsy lets out a breath when he sees the man. Already in the dignified wine-coloured robe, hair combed back, stitches barely visible, The Harry Hart sitting before him is not the vulnerable victim he had left hours ago. This Harry Hart is the Kingsman who can kick Eggsy’s ass at the drop of a dime and still leave time for tea.

“Hi.” He says stupidly.

“Eggsy.” Harry smiles faintly.

“How you feeling?” His mind is on autopilot while the rest of him rushes to solve the crisis he seems to be experiencing.

“Much better, thank you.” Harry replies as he moves to stand from the bed. “Merlin has given me the highlights. I must say Eggsy, I am very im-” He is suddenly cut short by what must be a bout of dizziness.

Eggsy is by him in a flash, catching Harry by the arms and holding him still. He has come so close to Harry he could feel the man’s breath. He looks up and once again he failed to conceal his distress. It is in this very second he let his hand known. He saw something click in Harry’s eyes. A powerful torrent of fear floods his system. He is a deer caught in headlights. Maybe holding his breath will make Harry un-see or dismiss Eggsy’s intentions. So he does and looks away.

There was a small sigh from Harry. Before Eggsy could analyze its nature, Harry’s arms were around him and pulling him close. He feels Harry rest his chin on his head lightly and say, “It’s alright Eggsy. It’s perfectly alright.”

The warmth of Harry’s body seems to envelope him completely and for the first time since staring down Valentine’s barrel and hearing the gun shot, Eggsy lets out a genuine sound of grief. A sob. It quickly turned into something unstoppable and soon he was crying into Harry’s robe. All the while Harry brushed reassuring patterns on his back and repeated, “I’m here now. It’s quite alright. I’m here now.” 

“You won’t leave again.” It really should’ve been a question, but Eggsy didn’t want to take the chance.

“I will certainly try my best.” Harry says quietly and presses a gentle kiss on his head.


	3. Chapter 3

The power vacuum created by the unplanned detonation of Valentine’s implants has the world going to shit. While the Kingsman do not partake in regular affairs and politics of nations, the aftermath has kept agents busy in thwarting villainous opportunists. 

In the past week Eggsy must have aged a decade. Coming back from his third solo mission he can barely remember a life before being a gentleman spy. As he arrives at the tailor shop, covered cadavers lined by the street give him pause. They are bodies of victims yet to be claimed by the city morgue. Signs of devastation are still very much visible around in London. Eggsy, in a moment of exhaustion, wonders if the world will ever get put back together again. He climbs the steps to the shop and the bell chimes as he enters.

“Arthur is in the dining room, sir.” Says the tailor behind the counter.

“Thank you.” Eggsy quickly makes his way to the back of the shop and then up the stairs. Anticipation of seeing Harry rejuvenates him. In fact, thoughts of Harry would often sneak up on him like happy epiphanies. Eggsy has yet to face the reality of his intense infatuation. If his life is not perpetually in peril, he is very much at risk of spiraling down a path of hearts doodled on notebooks and unimaginative daydreams. He shudders at the idea.

As it turns out Harry has a few more wounds dealt to him than Eggsy originally thought. Amidst the mindless slaughter in Kentucky a few blades and bullets have found their mark. To make matters worse, taking on the mantle of Arthur so soon after resurrecting has put incredible strain on Harry. However, none of the Kingsman could afford to notice. Harry, one of the most experienced Kingsman, inspired a kind of focus and camaraderie that was difficult to find in times of chaos. 

Eggsy knocks on the door and hears a hurried “come in”. He let a sheepish smile slip into existence and enters. Harry, in Arthur’s seat, is preoccupied with a number of files spilling from manila envelopes as well as various devices. 

“Merlin, status on Bedivere’s mission in Turkey.” Harry says to a propped up tablet while flipping through a clipboard.

“Completed. I’ve just rerouted his return trip to Kazakhstan. There has been a kidnapping of local dignitaries – Lancelot requested backup after reconnaissance.”

“Very well. While I have you, please halt Galahad’s next mission.” Harry finally looks up, giving Eggsy a nod. “I’ve just received word of the CIA’s involvement. We cannot risk anymore exposure post Valentine.”

“Mission G9201 on stand-by sir.” Came Merlin’s response.

“Thank you.” The call ends and Harry takes a moment, exhaustion radiating from his body. Some of which was pushed aside by a smile creeping into existence. It’s very rare to see Harry smile. Eggsy feels oddly proud.

“And I was looking forward to Paris...” Eggsy jests.

“Not to worry. You are not missing much. Getting shot at feels the same regardless of how beautiful the skyline is.” 

His debrief proceeds smoothly, but Eggsy feels an uneasiness settle in his stomach. There is a sheen of sweat coating Harry’s forehead. He notices the many sips the man takes from his glass, most likely to sooth an irritated throat. Harry looks paler since Eggsy saw him last. The more he observes his mentor the more difficult it has become to dissuade the worry within. Soon Eggsy finds himself across from Harry with no more official business to report. 

“Good work Galahad. You are dismissed. Get some rest.” Harry says, indicating their time is over.

“You look ill Harry.” Eggsy responds after a moment of consideration.

Harry raises an eyebrow, unable to make it look effortless. “I am aware. Why do you think I’m hiding out here?” He responds, suddenly the edge of formality is gone.

“Can’t you work from home or something? You need a decent nap. Maybe some chicken noodle soup or something -” He is babbling.

“You are undoubtedly aware, Eggsy, in this line of business one must be very aware of one’s own limits.” Harry interrupts softly. “You needn’t worry. I have delegated my responsibilities for the rest of the week. You and your fellow agents have made great strides over the past several days to stabilize governments and criminal syndicates alike. The initial wave of power-grab has subsided. Reconnaissance and monitoring of longer schemes would require fewer active agents in the field. Thus, I will be taking a leave of absence to fully recover.”

A pause stretches between them. A look of amusement is present in Harrys eyes. The man leans back and folds his arms, bringing his hands together, fingers intertwined. Eggsy cannot help but study those hands and the beautiful shadows they cast. He takes a moment before coming back to the conversation. 

“Oh… Okay. That was easier than I expected.” The burden of worry has quickly dissipated, but followed by a tinge of confusion “So why are you still here?”

“I wanted to personally see you return safely.” Harry replies without missing a beat.


	4. Chapter 4

Eggsy, in all his childhood daydreams, never imagined a Sunday afternoon quite like this. Starting off with some cathartic violence against his abuser. Followed by rescuing his mum and sister. And then proceeding to move them into a new house that is now under his name! Above all, he could not have imagined Harry Hart and how much he reveled in the anticipation of seeing the man.

Coming to Harry’s door, Eggsy quickly checks his breath and then knocks with clammy hands. He feels silly for behaving like teenage boy on a first date, a thought quickly abandoned when the door opens. He sees Harry in a rich-coloured robe and matching slippers.

“Posh.” He quips, can’t help but stare at the extra bit of flesh revealed by the lack of necktie on Harry.

“Ditto.” Harry returns, eyeing his suit with an oddly expressive side-glance, enough to send shivers down Eggsy’s spine. The older man leans in to give him a quick peck on the cheek and Eggsy is petrified with terror and joy simultaneously. He follows Harry in, neither one of them comments on how extraordinarily pink Eggsy’s entire head has become.

“You used my line.” Harry states as they head down the hall, referring to what just transpired in a certain pub in North London. 

Stalking is a weirdly accepted form of affection in the spy world as Eggsy has learned. He supposes he only has himself to blame for giving Harry the password to his ‘eyes’. His mind would often wonder off, thinking of more creative uses of this encrypted transmission, private to Harry and himself. As he finds himself doing it once more, he quickly pulls back to reality before the derailed train of his sexual desires causes any casualties.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Eggsy says, rejoining the conversation, post mental detour. “Can’t believe that asshole didn’t even break a bone. What a waste of life.”

His off-hand comment about Dean seems to catch Harry off guard and the older man visibly stiffens. Eggsy suddenly feel as if he’s transgressed upon an open wound. It takes him a second to catch up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He reaches out for Harry hand. As though by reflex, the man shrinks from the offering and turns away, a simple gesture that stings more than Eggsy cares to admit.

Harry busies himself by pouring some tea. Both of them idle in the silence until Harry finally speaks, slowly and evenly. “The truth is, Eggsy,” he starts, “I cannot mourn those whom I’ve murdered… I’ve yet to feel the full weight of my sins, because every time I try, I see you in that church. I see how I would fail you. I see how I would fail the service and all its agents. All the damage I’ve caused and will cause… Coming back… was not something I…”

Harry stops short, as if realizing he has come to the precipice of some great decent, there is a fear in the man’s rigid stance. He has revealed too much.

Eggsy’s mind fills in the blanks, “You wanted to die…”

The statement hangs in the air for a moment then Harry turns to him with a soft resignation over his face. Having seen the events through Harry’s eyes Eggsy never thought to consider how Harry must have looked in those final seconds. Now studying the man’s face like a revelation Eggsy realizes the man never tried to escape his fate. Instead, Harry welcomed it like some kind of messed up retribution from god.

Eggsy feels the blood drain from him, coming to terms with the fact that Harry did not intend to come back to him at all. This is a fluke, a twisted miracle. The man is fractured and decidedly suicidal. 

His mind races and all of a sudden, drawing breath seems harder. Eggsy is unsure how long he stared dumbfounded. When he finally gathers his wits he is angry. 

“Don’t you fucking go mental on me, Harry.” He says finally, staring at nothing in particular. His entire body is tense as if ready for a fight, yet his tears are threatening to well up and spill. “‘I’ll sort this mess out when I get back’ is what you said. Not even a week ago you told me you ain’t gonna leave again. These words better fucking mean something to you… or I swear I’ll…” He didn’t think his threat through but it doesn’t matter because Harry has his arms around him in a second.

“Yes they do, Eggsy. I do intend to keep my promises…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Harry soothes and pulls him close.

“Yes you should.” Eggsy says into Harry’s chest, voice muffled. “We are in this together now… You and me.” He pulls back and looks Harry in the eyes. “You have me. Yeah? Don’t you keep me in the dark so you can appease your masochistic gallantry complex.”

A smile cracks over Harry’s face.

“Promise me you would try your damndest to live. Promise me you won’t give up under a pointed gun ever again.” Harry’s got him all riled up now. At the risk of sounding clichéd he continues. “Promise me it ain’t over till it’s over.”

“All right… all right.” Harry chides with mock exasperation. The atmosphere from a moment ago has now lightened a great deal. Despite which a sliver of doubt still hangs between them, unacknowledged. Eggsy can no longer unsee the parasitic guilt behind Harry’s eyes. The brutality in Kentucky has left Harry changed. 

For the first time Eggsy is faced with the reality that he is only privy to a calculated amount of Harry. Since meeting Harry, Eggsy has become very well acquainted to what the man mean to him. To learn who Harry really is, he finds, is another story entirely.


	5. Chapter 5

Days are creeping further into evenings as London warms. It’s a bit past seven. The last slanted rays of sunlight paints Harry’s kitchen in a ferocious orange as the two men sit by the breakfast nook contemplating their tea. Eggsy has come to Harry’s with the intention of caring for the man’s injuries and then shooing him off to bed. But when the man offered him tea, he could only agree. 

Harry has always carried himself with a stern elegance that is above reproach. That is the Harry most people know, and to an extent is indeed genuinely Harry. There are however small crevasses of Harry’s life and mind that remain privileged to a very few people. Eggsy has become aware that he is being carefully added to the short list. 

Recovering from their initial scene, both men have managed to keep a steady pace of light conversation about plans and routine. During their exchanges, Eggsy studies Harry with newfound curiosity and enthusiasm. Perhaps Eggsy’s mind is manufacturing the fragility of his new Harry. After all, the man has killed before, and remained unaffected and unbroken for a remarkably long time. With that under consideration, Harry is clearly the type who needs his control. Maybe the lost of which is what lead to the failed reconciliation of events from the church.

Eggsy realizes the pointless nature of his efforts to rationalize Harry’s decisions. Not wanting to disturb the peace that has been established by small talk, Eggsy decides to leave his inquires to another day.

“Well let’s get you looked at then,” Eggsy says after a lull in their conversation.

“At your command.” Harry teases pushing himself from his seat. He sways a little after getting up, causing a knot of nervousness in Eggy’s stomach. He leaves the worries unspoken. Weakness, he feels, is not something Harry would like highlighted by Eggsy’s own futile expressions of concern.

As he follows Harry up the stairs he relishes in being able to walk within the walls of Harry’s home again. He likes this house. It’s warm, it’s sophisticated, and it resonates of Harry. A house like this is not something Eggsy grew up with but it can be something he grows into. He can count the number of times he’s been inside on one hand, yet somehow it feels like home.

Changing bandages and dressing stab wounds has become an expected part of Eggsy’s repertoire of skills. He lays out the necessary materials on Harry’s bed while the man sits on to one side, eyes following his movements. Between acclimatizing his admiration and awe for Harry and falling in love, there has been a brief period during which Eggsy was completely at ease around the older man. However, right now he would be lying if he said Harry Hart does not make him nervous. 

“Take off your robe.” He tells Harry, restraining a sense of nervous glee behind his mask of composure. 

Harry does so without a word. The simple movement causes a grunt of discomfort from the man hinting at unseen wounds. After laying down the robe Harry proceeds to unbutton the dress shirt he worn inside. Well-practiced movements of Harry’s hand demonstrate a lithe beauty Eggsy savors. When Harry is done Eggsy is standing before him. Arms by his side, Harry lets Eggsy take hold of the shirt between his fingers and guide it off his shoulders. Eggsy moves slower than necessary, all the while feeling Harry’s gaze. As the crisp material of Harry’s shirt pulls back, a painful scene of violence is revealed. Purple bruises on the chest and abdomen peaked through bandages. Blood cloths formed upon impact of bullets are a deep red. Bullets may not have made their way through the armor of Harry’s suit, but they certainly have left their mark.

“Jesus, Harry…”

“I have seen better days.”

They continue without further remark. Harry sits on the edge of the bed while Eggsy unravels the bandages clinging to him revealing more injuries. He eventually lowers himself to his knees to get at a few cuts by Harry’s side. He positions himself between Harry’s legs, and lets their bodies touch. Neither of them complains of the close proximity. When Eggsy does look up at Harry he lets the corner of his mouth turn up, forming a smirk, and promptly gives the man a wink.

To address the injuries on Harry’s back he goes around the bed and climbs on. He moves himself behind Harry and takes a kneeling position. After many dabs of antiseptic and redressing the last stab wound, Eggsy let his hand linger on the bandage newly applied to Harry’s shoulder.

“All done.” He says, but does not move away.

Harry reaches a hand to cover his and by invitation leans into Eggsy. “Thank you.”

Sliding his free arm beneath Harry’s he hugs the man close. Eggsy rests his chin on Harry’s uninjured shoulder and they stay like that for a moment. 

“Get some sleep, old man.” He whispers into Harry’s ear before letting go.

Harry turns to look at him with a raised brow and amusement in his eyes. “You look like you could benefit from some sleep as well… You are welcomed to stay.”

Eggsy does stay. Going through the domestic motions of getting ready for bed with Harry makes him want to jump the man’s bones. But having so recently seen the extent of Harry’s wrecked body, he knows that would be ill-advised.

By the time Eggsy finds himself beneath Harry’s sheets, exhaustion has fully washed over him. He watches Harry as the man slides into bed next to him and turns off the light.

“Good night Harry.” He says, grinning into the dark.

“Good night Eggsy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no plans for this story... therefore I can literally do anything I want!

It is when he wakes does Harry realize he has been looking forward to waking up. The thought of waking next to Eggsy has brought him renewed joy, a kind of contentment he has forgotten he lost some years past. So he makes the moment last. Unlike those previous, ordinary days, he lets his aged eyes adjust with happy patience. He lets the shapes sharpen in their own time. He waits for Eggsy to come into view.

And the boy does. Eggsy’s form comes into focus next to him, tangled in the sheets. Before Harry can bring a smile to his face he smells copper. Something is wrong. Just then, all of a sudden, the world has too much clarity. Harry feels his heart leap to his throat before his mind can process the scene.

Eggsy is lying prone next to him, arms outstretched and body twisted as if still in some invisible struggle. Splatters of blood on the headboard and sheets stain the scene scarlet. There is a deep cut on Eggsy’s forehead, and congealed blood pools on the pillow beneath the wound. Of all the horror, the thing Harry cannot seem to look away from is purplish handprints around Eggsy’s neck, vibrant against the boy’s paled skin. Harry’s heart becomes a rabid animal, wild and threatens to burst. He looks down at his own hands and lets out a weak cry of anguish.

Scratches and torn skin still bleeds. Bits of exposed flesh on his wrists sting for the first time this morning. He looks at Eggsy’s hands, and sees red fingertips. Harry feels nauseous and faint. His lungs are stupefied and breathing becomes an issue. Then slowly, for the first time, Harry lets himself look at Eggsy’s face. 

Eggsy is turned away from him, dim eyes gazing at the window, reflecting the cold light of dawn. There are trails of dried tears on his cheeks. His chapped lips parted. Bile rises within Harry. The boy has died with Harry’s name on his lips. 

His stomach contracts without warning, and Harry throws up.

\-----

Eggsy wakes up confused. There is some restlessness next to him then a sudden lurch. There is a brief moment of happiness when he remembers he is in fact in Harry’s home, and for that matter, in the man’s bed. But it is quickly displaced by worry as he realizes Harry is probably the source of restlessness beside him. He jolts up in bed to find Harry in midst of a fit of sickness. 

Eggsy rushes to roll the man to his side so his air way does not get blocked. He holds the man in place with one arm pressed against Harry’s chest, leaning the seizing body into his own. His other hand is place over Harry’s feverish temple. Somehow, stroking the man’s hair as if he is a toddler seems like the natural thing to do. After a few moments Eggsy feels Harry's body relax. 

When Harry does fully wake up he jerks up as if escaping hell, head nearly smashing into Eggsy’s. Harry checks his hands first then his panicked eyes snap to Eggsy, who is still holding him firmly, but a little startled.

“Oh thank God.” Harry says weakly, his voice uncharacteristically high and emotional.

A moment passes, then “Nightmare, darling?” Eggsy jokes.

“The worst I’ve ever had.” There is certain vulnerability in the earnest way Harry answers. Strands of hair are loose before his eyes. There is a fearful sadness in the gaze of those large brown eyes. 

When Eggsy finally manages to snap out of their staring contest, he reaches and wipes Harry’s chin. He then gives the man a grin and proceeds to wipe his hand on the man’s sleeve. Harry follows his movements and as if arriving at a punch line, he lets out a single chuckle and rolls his eyes.

“I should go clean up.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

\-----

Dawn is creeping through the curtains when Harry finishes cleaning himself up. By the time he exits the bathroom, Eggsy already has the sheets in the machine and is wiping up Harry’s corner of any residual mess.

“You look like the type of bloke who prefers his home odour-free.” He answers Harry’s unspoken question, and continues “Gracie was pretty much a poop and puke machine during her first year. You learn quickly to not let the mess sit.”

Eggsy goes over the spot on the carpet a few more times before dropping the brush in the bucket and peels of his gloves. 

“All done!” He looks up and Harry is there, standing over him. Eggsy moves to stand and before he could fully straighten up Harry’s hands are on either side of him, holding him in place.

“May I?” Harry asks in a whisper.

Eggsy let’s out an unintelligible noise in agreement before Harry’s mouth is over his. This is unlike those chaste kisses Harry had placed on his cheek or forehead. This is an honest-to-God, I-want-you kiss. Eggsy can taste the mint of Harry’s toothpaste and feel the softness of his tongue. Eggsy has never kissed a man before, and the scraping of Harry’s stubble is quite a nice change as opposed to the softness of a woman's skin.

With a grin on his face he says to Harry, “That’s very irresponsible of you Mr. Hart. Now I’m going to catch whatever you have.”

Harry considers the charge with mock seriousness then shrugs lightly. “Your sacrifice is duly noted.”

“Fuck it.” Eggsy says happily before bringing their lips together once more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will keep writing until I've used up all the tropes....

Eggsy visits India in July as Galahad. It is his second time in the country and first time experiencing its thick summer heat. There is something about it that wears a man down. 

He is intercepting a weaponized virus stolen out of a Swedish lab two weeks prior. The job is anything but routine- then again, few really are. The intelligence has been muddy and confused throughout the operation. Calls have been made in real time, even with the presence of frustrating blind spots. Some paid off, others lead to bloodshed. After a week of eavesdropping on mostly mundane, but occasionally incriminating conversations, he has traced the ‘package’ to its holding spot in the slums Juhu. 

Galahad has traded in his suit for a beat up hoodie and washed out track-pants, but they did little to cover his foreignness. He makes his way through the improvised walls of modest quarters, weaving in and out of the living spaces of others. People here have learned to not ask any questions, and things are as much communal as yours or mine. 

When he arrives at the apartment, a sense of uneasiness fills him. The escape routes are limited, and his view is too obstructed for comfort. The room he needs is through an open courtyard, a perfect slaughter ground from above. It would be an excellent location to place a trap, his well-trained paranoia warns him. 

“Looks like a trap Merlin. We sure they are not on to me?” He whispers into his com. It is less of a question and more of verbalized concern. 

“Layout is not ideal.” Merlin’s voice comes through his earpiece. “We do have confirmation: package is present. Heat signatures show two hostiles over the courtyard and three men in the room, 1’o clock, 5’o clock, and 10’o clock.” 

“Affirmative. I’m going in.”

Galahad sticks to the side of the courtyard keeping an unassuming pace. Once no longer exposed, he moves swiftly to a side window of the targeted room and shoots the three men with silent efficiency. He takes note of the suitcase in the middle of the table inside and unhinges one of the paneled ‘walls’, which opens enough just for him to slip through. Galahad makes his way to the suitcase before he hears Merlin’s voice again.

“Get out Galahad. Someone is coming.” He hears Merlin say as he inspects the suitcase. He curses. It is empty. In that very moment he hears a shot ring out and feels the bullet pierce his armor.

No matter how many times he’s been shot, he never gets used to the physical shock and pain. Galahad falters only for a second and then he is moving again. Crashing through the back wall, he runs through the most preferable of his escape routes, Merlin’s voice in his ear.

The heat of day burns him up like furnace. He is already exhausted. Galahad knows if he is going to survive this, the next 10 minutes are crucial. He’s done it before, yet this time it seems much harder.

He is running, and so far evading the enemy successfully with Merlin’s eyes on the situation. But his heart sinks with every step. He is dropping speed significantly. His heart has gone into overdrive, and his vision starts to blur.

“Galahad, your vitals are going off the charts.” Merlin states. “You are 3 minutes out from the rendezvous. Extraction vehicle is in place.”

“I’m not going to make it Merlin.” Galahad knows he has already been captured. He wills his leg to go further and they obey for a few more yards. Something catches his toes and then he is falling. He blacks out before he hits the ground.

\-----

“There is no happy ending waiting for us, Eggsy.” He remembers Roxy say to him after catching one of those secret touches he shared with Harry when they are in the office. The look on her face has been akin to pity. 

Galahad wakes up with his hands and feet bound. To be expected he supposes. He studies his surroundings, which is quite limited in characteristics. The cool dampness indicates an underground cell. There is a light bulb hanging by its lonesome from the ceiling and a two-way mirror. 

His bullet wound has been addressed but he is still affected by extraordinary fatigue. Galahad briefly tests his restraints and they prove quiet inescapable. The table he is strapped to is nailed down as it refuses to budge when he rocks his body from side to side. He has been stripped of his personal effects. The warm static of Merlin’s presence is gone from his ear. There are no tools or resources for him to leverage. He is alone.

Without knowing his location and surroundings, chance of a successful escape is null. Galahad knows this. He will have to wait for an opportunity, if it ever comes his way. For now, he rests. Galahad lay strapped to the table and thinks of Harry. He falls asleep while pretending Harry is lying next to him, snoring lightly as the man does.


	8. Chapter 8

It is a well-known secret amongst the agents that Arthur and Galahad have shacked up together. While there are no moral objections, all who knew share the opinion that this is a bad idea. The most adamant of whom are those privy to Harry and Eggsy’s mundane albeit affectionate domestic life. Love in their profession is, after all, an unnecessary game of Russian roulette. 

Both Merlin and Roxy have attended those dinner parties hosted at Harry’s, keeping up appearances for Eggsy’s mum and sister. To Eggsy’s mom, her son moving in with a man literally older than his father is the most scandalous thing she will ever face in her lifetime. Even after three years, there is still a tangible tenseness between Michelle and Harry. She has hoped to not have a second meeting with the man who brought her so much grief and pain. But given her own past life choices and Michelle’s love for her son, this is a scandal she has accepted and learning to live with. In the end, she cannot deny the overwhelming positive influence Harry has had on her Eggsy. The smile her son wears now is different from before, it softens his eyes and for a moment becomes all he is. 

Now Michelle comes over for dinner once every few weeks, and Eggsy makes sure he visits whenever he is in town. 

Their cover has become a well-practiced part of their lives. Harry is a retired veteran who has taken over ownership of a charming tailor shop on Savile Row. He has offered Eggsy a job after their chance meeting in a pub. Eggsy, who is now the ‘materials man’ for the shop, has to, once in a while, travel abroad to scout out new textiles and manufactures. Eggsy has once wondered out loud if this is the same cover story other agents use. Harry in return has laughed and reminded him other agents don’t have their mothers living three blocks away.

Merlin remembers telling improvised stories about the shop over those dinners. Roxy remembers reading Arthurian tales to Gracie before tucking her in at the few parties that ran too long. Both of them, despite themselves, have enjoyed the dinners. But neither of them reminisces over those moments of sentiment as they scramble to get eyes on Galahad again. Reminiscing is for times of mourning, and if they do their job, that time will be kept at bay.

Twenty minutes after Galahad’s primary tracker goes offline, Arthur walks in the room. When Galahad’s secondary, embedded, tracker goes offline, the man stiffens and draws in a breadth too quickly.

The extraction team is still 30 minutes out. Without the tracker, every minute leads to a wider search radius of possible locations. Galahad is dangerously close to disappearing into the wind.

\-----

“Who are you?” The interrogator asks evenly, her accent American and voice laced with unspoken menace.

“Not a very original, but I’ll give you points for delivery.” Galahad mocks.

“Must we do this dance? We are both professionals. We know how this will go.” She cocks her head a little, like a disappointed schoolteacher. “It will only lead to pain for you.”

“Right. So you might as well just kill me now then. Spare you the hassle.”

The woman sighs. She paces around him a bit then pulls out a photograph from the papers in her arm. She holds it over Galahad, who is still strapped to the examination table. His face is blank as he stares at the man in the picture – Harry.

“Interesting choice in partner. But I’m not here to judge. I just want to let you know what is really at stake here.” She explains. “My collogues are really into the torture non-sense… But I like to skip to where it really hurts.”

She leans over him. “Now, Mr. Smith,” she rolls her eyes at the name, “Why don’t you tell me who you really are or England is going to loose a charming old tailor.”


End file.
